


a glow in the dark

by annaregina



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Nostalgia, One year apart to figure out what they want, Small village, and fields, author loves the sky, spoilers it is each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaregina/pseuds/annaregina
Summary: “I don’t want you to be the only thing I ever know. I don’t want to love you because I don’t have an alternative. I want to love you because I’ve seen everything and I still think you’re the most beautiful thing out there.”where Rey and Ben have only ever known each other and need to figure out if that is enough
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	a glow in the dark

_20:17, evening sunlight_

Rey clicks the front door of her home shut gently as she tucks her keys in the pocket of her flowy khaki skirt. The temperature is still high as she turns away from the door and slips silently down the stone path and through the rickety gate onto the lane. She pauses once she’s there, one sandaled foot on the grass in the middle, the other on the loose stones that make up the track towards the main village.

The cottage windows behind her glow reassuringly and so she takes a deep breath, smooths down her blouse and pads along the lane into town, her tote bag loose on one shoulder and filled haphazardly.

The sun is still clinging to the horizon in the west and yet the moon is already out, low on the opposite side of the fields. Rey looks up at the sky as she walks and smiles to herself, breathing the familiar smell of the countryside and drinking in the dusky violet and gold that streak the sky above.

It’s only a short walk to the centre of the village, the overgrown hedges spilling from the green verges as she half glides, half skips towards the crossroads. Rey isn’t sure what will greet her when she reaches the bench by the memorial – their spot – but she can feel the butterflies stirring in her stomach and the lightness of her step as she rounds the corner and hops up onto the cracked pavement that springs up out of nowhere.

She’s nervous. Because she’s about to arrive at their spot. And Ben might be there.

Ben, Ben Solo. Ben, of a thousand glances across the school yard, of walking from the bus stop home after school, of river jumping in the summer every year until he got too embarrassed by her bare skin and blushed whenever she stripped to her swimming costume. Ben, with his dark eyes and darker hair, with his back that broadened overnight aged sixteen, with his glares at his father and his soft smiles only for her.

The heat of the evening clings to her neck and she pulls her hair up into a hasty buns, ignoring the strands that she misses, too warm even from that action to want to do it again. She darts across the deserted road, the only road through the village, barely glancing left and right because she knows there will be no traffic at this time of night. The road vanished out of the corner of her eye and she doesn’t bother to look down it towards where the Solo’s house is like usual because if Ben is anywhere, he will be at their spot.

Every night in the summer holidays, once sixth form was over until September and the days stretched on and on, they would meet here after dinner – his a formal sit down meal with his parents, hers grabbing something from the cupboards and eating it on the swing at the bottom of her garden – and chase pavements until they found a spot they liked, way out in the fields where no one could see them.

They’d make daisy chains and climb trees, pretending they were ten again and not sixteen and confused. Rey would pick tufts of grass and throw them at Ben’s head while he slept in the shade, making him scramble up and yell about his allergies and wrestle her to the ground – her goal the whole time.

Rey turns the corner, appearing from behind the small grove of trees in the middle of the village green. The bench is the other side and her secret smile widens into a grin as she spots the flowerbeds in full bloom despite the temperatures. And then her grin falls.

Because Ben is not there.

It is the first day of summer, she knows he’s back from uni because the lights were on in his room across the hill from hers on the other side of the village. She could see him silhouetted in his window, his broad frame blocking out the warm glow of the Solo’s house. And he knows she’s home because her bedroom window was thrown open, the little lace curtains stirring in the lethargic wind of the afternoon. So why is he not here?

Rey feels her heart break into countless pieces, one piece for every evening she has darted through the trees to find Ben already at their bench, hunched over and waiting for her.

Maybe he is late. Maybe dinner ran over – if Han and Leia got into a discussion, which happened a lot in Rey’s experience, it was highly probable. Maybe... maybe he _doesn’t_ feel the same way anymore.

Rey isn’t going to waste the last of the light for anyone, not even Ben Solo, so she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for half a second before opening them again and accepting the sight in front of her. Turning on her heels, she feels the dry grass tickle her ankles and sets off towards the park alone.

* * *

_20:35, golden hour_

The sun has reached the perfect angle, streaming through the hedges and trees that wind their way across the landscape. There is no one else for miles around as Rey treads the old paths away from the scattered houses, past the closed up club house, away from the empty bench where Ben should’ve been. She slides her sunglasses down from her head and slows down, brushing her fingers across the top of the long grass, sending the feathery seeds drifting to the ground as she passes.

The world is bathed in golden light, silent, the air still and light. A gentle breeze catches the tops of the trees from time to time but doesn’t reach her. Nothing reaches her – she is in her own world.

Rey daydreams, as she so often does. She dreams of her younger self, both desperate to escape her home town and terrified of what that would mean, her year at uni in a city that felt endlessly big and infinitely exciting; she dreams of what might have happened if Ben had been at their bench, nine months after he shut the boot of his family’s car and drove away, watching her in the rear view mirror. He might have stood up, turned to greet her. She might have thrown herself at him, trusting him to catch her like he has every single time. They might’ve kissed the way she’s thought about ever since they were fifteen and she noticed the little crease in his eyebrows as he concentrated on making her a daisy chain.

But, Rey realises as she licks her dry lips and pauses in the middle of the field to drink from her water bottle, that didn’t happen. Because Ben wasn’t there and she is twenty and in love with someone who doesn’t love her back.

She tucks her water away again and stands, alone, in the middle of the grass. The June sun is hot on her back as she faces away from it, choosing instead to watch the sliver of moon, small against the expanse of cloudless sky.

Last time she was here, she was with Ben. It was one of their last days, late August with all their things already in boxes back home, waiting for moving day. His hair was short, shorter than he liked, in preparation for making a good impression at Oxford. Rey had not bothered to do anything of the sort for her move to Newcastle except buy some fairy lights for her room and make sure her cacti were packed safely into their moving crate. They’d come out here with the prospect of a whole year apart in front of them and sunk down into the grass to talk.

The grass is even longer now, above Rey’s head even as she sits, the prickly stalks brushing her thighs, her shoulders, the nape of her neck.

That day, Ben had finally put into words what they’d been darting around all summer.

“I don’t know if I even want to go anymore. But I think wanting to stay would be even worse.”

Rey shivers at the memory, at the knowledge that the year apart – however horrible – had been necessary. They’d have both resented each other if they’d stayed here. They’d have become her parents, his parents, everyone who never left and married their childhood sweethearts and saw nothing of the world.

“I don’t want you to be the only thing I ever know. I don’t want to love you because I don’t have an alternative. I want to love you because I’ve seen everything and I still think you’re the most beautiful thing out there.”

He’s right, he always is. And it breaks her heart still.

Rey pushes herself up, stirring the grass gently, and brushes herself down. She decides to take another turn around the next field and then head home. She’s tired from the heat and the heaviness in her heart, and walking alone in her old haunts will only make the ache in her chest grow.

* * *

_21:01, twilight and the moon_

By the time Rey makes it back to the main park, the fields are lit up only by the lavender glow of twilight. The sun is gone, save for a sliver of molten light edging the trees and hills in the distance. The crescent moon is bright now, standing out in the watercolour sky.

It’s the time of night that makes her nostalgic. It makes her want to sink to the floor and lay on her back and watch the stars come out overhead. It makes her yearn for the picnic blankets and mugs of tea and borrowed jumpers of last summer. She has no one in this village to call a friend except Ben. No one to join her on these walks except for the one person who doesn’t want to do this anymore.

Rey treads lightly on the world as she eases herself into one of the worn swings, the rusted chains warm to her touch, the plastic seat still holding onto the heat. Pushing herself off gently, she focuses on the feeling of her chest rising and falling, her white blouse crumpled, hiding her already darkening tan lines. The only sound in the playground is the comforting creaking of the frame as she swings back and forth. The dusk settles around her. She is part of the landscape, leaning her head against the chain and closing her eyes. An insect lands on her hand and then takes off again a moment later. The rabbits are probably emerging from the hedges, forgetting that she’s there.

Maybe Ben went to uni and found someone else. Maybe someone who also likes history, smarter than Rey, clever enough to get into Oxford and not dirt poor. Maybe he realised he didn’t want to only know Rey and their village and the same old fields. That was what the time was for after all.

Rey tried, she really did. She has friends at uni – Rose and Finn and Poe – and she has her own space, her room full of plants and charity shop records. She fulfilled her end of their promise and she has lived a life outside of their one road village. It’s a life she wants to keep. But it was always missing Ben.

She loves her little flat by the quay. She loves her lectures, labs. She loves bundling up in the wind and finding their usual spot in the pub. She loves nights out, Poe flirting with anyone he can see and then with Finn as always. She loves her freedom, the public transport, roads that lead somewhere that isn’t a farm. And she loves Ben.

Rey gets off the swing, picks up her bag and shoulders it quickly. She has done enough wallowing for the night, thank you very much.

Heading back towards the village green, she tries not to think about the fact that she’s going to have to take off the makeup she put on just for Ben. A car trundles down the twisty road up ahead and she looks up, mildly surprised even if the steady whir doesn’t cut through the calm like she’d thought it might.

As she looks around at the centre of the village, deserted this late at night, she notices someone sat on the bench. Their shoulders are hunched and their hair is familiar, curling around their ears.

* * *

_21:15, streetlamp glow_

Ben hears her before he sees her, despite the quiet pad of her soles on the grass. In fact, it’s less hearing her and more feeling her. Ben thinks he’d know her presence even if he was blind; it’s _Rey_ , he will never not know the way she moves, the way she breathes.

He holds his breath as she trails her hand along the wrought iron back of the bench, twisting her body around the edge to sit in the spot next to him. The metal digs into his back but he doesn’t move, suspended in time as he is. The air is gradually cooling now the relentless sun has dropped below the horizon and the light is fading to deep indigo, a light wash of pink illuminating the edges of the world. They have done this a thousand times and yet no time is like tonight.

He's missed her. He hadn’t come home for Christmas – his parents were fighting again and he had no intention of ruining his holiday – and they’d agreed not to text, to take the year entirely apart to figure out who they were without each other. Ben has only figured out that he is nothing without her. She smooths his edges and gets him out of his head, the same way he calms her temper and understands where she goes when her eyes focus on things he cannot see. He’s been miserable without her.

“You weren’t here before,” Rey whispers. Speaking any louder would feel wrong somehow. He doesn’t struggle to understand her anyway.

“I was late, I’m sorry,” he says honestly, his voice cracking slightly as he finally turns his head to look at her. “Dad kept talking and I didn’t want to say I was meeting you because, well, you know how he gets.”

She looks good. So good. He could sit there and stare at her for hours and still not be satisfied. Her hair is longer, in a messy bun that’s half fallen out already and littered with seeds from her loop through the fields. She’s filled out somewhat and Ben remembers his mother mentioning a swimming team which would account for that. It suits her, as does her olive skirt, the paleness of her top setting off her permanently tanned skin, the freckles earned from years of running wild outside. He thinks if he doesn’t kiss her tonight, he’ll die.

“I thought you weren’t going to come at all,” Rey continues, her hands playing with the strap of her cloth bag.

He goes for honesty. “I nearly didn’t.”

She turns her head then, the angle changing. Whereas before her profile had been cut out by the orange glow of the streetlight on the corner, now it’s behind her head, strobing like an angel’s halo. Ben swallows.

“Not because... not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t see how _you_ could possibly want to,” he adds hastily, his voice cracking with the emotion.

Her brow furrows and he curses. He did that, he made her frown.

“Look at you, Rey,” he says softly. A strand of her tawny hair shifts as she turns to face him, framing her angled face. He longs to brush it behind her ear. “If you love something, let it go. A year apart, I assumed you’d find something better.”

Her face clouds with confusion before it vanishes all at once, her eyes sparkling. “You think you’re too good for me.” It’s not a question.

She is too good for him. It’s a fact, not an opinion. And yet... she is here.

“You don’t get to decide what’s too good for me, Ben Solo,” she says firmly. She shifts on the bench, crossing her legs and angling her body towards him, her usual refusal to sit in a chair properly.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say, because she’s right, she always is. He doesn’t know better than her what she wants.

“I came to the bench. You came to the bench. Unless uni has _stolen_ some of my braincells, that means we did the year and decided we still want each other.”

Her voice is outwardly firm but Ben, who has known her longer than anyone, who knows her better than he knows himself, can sense her nerves. It’s evident in the way she holds herself still, like a cornered animal, in the way she is searching his face for clues.

“Correct?”

He nods, unable to form words. He’s too busy staring at her lips. He’s dreamed about her lips every night since he drove away and saw her biting them in the rear view mirror, holding back her tears.

“Then we know for sure, Ben.”

He shivers at the sound of his name in her mouth. It’s a promise, an embrace, a welcome home. It’s been so long.

“I’ve seen everything,” Rey begins, echoing his words from last summer like she’s repeated them to herself countless times. “And I still think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Ben doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. He just has to close the gap between them, his hand curling around her neck as he crashes his lips against hers. Rey melds to him, her fingers raking through his hair as she kisses him back, drinking him in. It’s their first kiss and it is _perfect_. It is full of their laughter, him carrying her satchel down her lane, leaving her at her gate; it is full of love, planted aged four sat next to each other at the sandpit and grown for sixteen years into _this_.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers against her skin, his pulse jumping in her fingertips as he trails his hand over her skin, savouring the moment. They’ve touched too many times to count over the years but that was before, and this is now.

“Of course. And tomorrow?”

“And tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. And then when term starts, I’ll ring you at this time instead. Or FaceTime. Or write to you. Whatever you want,” he murmurs.

He can feel her grin and as she pulls away he swears nothing in the world compares to the sight of her against the backdrop of fluorescent lights and the darkening sky, the first stars blinking in the night sky.

* * *

_22:01, starlight_

He carries her bag even though it’s not heavy and she laces their fingers together as they wander down the lane to her house. The crickets are chirping in the hedges, a cool breeze finally winding its way down the unkempt paths. The starlight is the only light source out here, away from the village’s scattered street lights.

Rey’s teeth reflect the moon as she laughs at something he says, squeezing her hand tighter around his as they reach her little gate. Her cottage is mostly dark, her parents already asleep upstairs, but there’s a tell-tale glow from around the back where her room with its view across town to his house on the hill is lit up still, waiting for her return.

Ben hands her tote bag back and steals another kiss, bending down and tugging her closer to him under the arch of flowers over her gate, the perfumed petals heavy on the branches overhead.

“Same time tomorrow night?” he checks but he knows he doesn’t need to. They won’t break the habit of a lifetime now.

Rey looks up at him from under her dark lashes and bites her lip. “Sounds good,” she says shyly.

“I won’t be late,” he promises, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Wait, Ben,” she breathes, catching the front of his shirt. “Stay? Stay the night? Stay tomorrow too. It’s stupid, you going home now, and texting tomorrow, just to see you in the evening, it’s a waste of time and it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and-“

He doesn’t need to be convinced more and he pulls her back to him tightly. Her lips against his are cool and wonderful and everything he has ever wanted. She reaches out blindly to fumble with the gate latch before she clicks it open and tugs him up the garden path and through her front door. He realises that he was wrong last summer: going was the hardest thing they’ve ever done but it only ever made coming home that much sweeter.


End file.
